Wednesday I woke with a feeling I needed to venture out of the comfort of my city in search of something. Something that would wake the muse and feed my spirit. I packed everything I thought I would need - swimsuits (for sunning and swimming), wetsuit, running shoes, camera for capturing inspiring images, journal and Ipad for capturing words. I headed out of the rare warmth of a San Francisco day towards my other "home" of Santa Cruz.
It takes an eternity to leave the city but once I made it out of the tangle of traffic lights and pavement mountains, there was nothing but winding roads that followed the steep cliffs along the coast. After a half hour of driving I spotted wooden stairs leading down to a beach. I could not resist - I had to stop and explore this.
My spirit was drawn down to the beach, to where I could earth myself in the marsala sand. The peacock and turquoise ocean rolling in while I stood in the foam being pulled further down into the sand with each wave.
.
Here was where I found the mindspace to commit to the muse, to embrace the amount of effort it would take to dedicate myself to the process that would unfold. My breath followed each roar of a wave crash, each sigh as the water pulled back into the deep. I was restored.
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It wasn't until the midnight hour, while nestled in white sheets with cats on my pillow, did I remember the first check in. So this is a day late - but I would not trade yesterday for anything....
I have been doing my morning pages religiously - often more than the "prescribed" three pages. I captured my wild ways in it today (the wild woman finds freedom on the page). I have also started a combination of reading a novel that will also serve as research for my November NaNoMo project. I have not yet completed my daily word goal on Fences but I am definitely writing at least 1700 a day in all areas combined.
I am grateful that this process is keeping me honest.
The Sea Muse
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